


Five Times Frederick Wentworth Lied to a Superior Officer

by AMarguerite



Series: A Monstrous Regiment [4]
Category: Persuasion - Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen, Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: F/M, Gen, Napoleonic Wars, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Sexism, Regency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 18:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15869586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMarguerite/pseuds/AMarguerite
Summary: What it says on the tin. Five times Frederick Wentworth lies to a superior officer in England's draconic Aerial Corps. A companion piece to 'A Monstrous Regiment' but should make sense on its own without it.





	Five Times Frederick Wentworth Lied to a Superior Officer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eclectic80](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eclectic80/gifts).



1) Midwingman Lucas

 

Freddy was a year older than Lizzy, but Lizzy was cleverer than everyone else her age, so they usually got along.

Usually.

When they didn’t, things got very bad, very quickly, which was how they came to be pulling at each others’ hair while covered in flour in the middle of the Dover covert. Lizzy was always stupidly prideful about getting to inherit the Longwing Wollstonecraft, and Lizzy could be  _ unbearably  _ smug. It wasn’t his fault he threw the sack of flour at her face when she  _ boasted  _ like she did. It was her fault, really, for rubbing her inheritance in his face. 

“Stop it,” said Excedium, thrusting his face between them. “Where are my officers? Someone come and tear these two apart.”

Midwingman Lucas, who served on Wollstonecraft, ran over and pulled Lizzy away by the collar of her shirt. “What’s going on here?”

“We were asked to help unload,” said Lizzy, sulkily.

Freddy tried to wipe the flour off his face with his sleeve, which really only made things worse. 

“When Captain Roland asked you to help unload,” said Excedium, dryly, “I don’t think she meant you were to take the flour out of the bag. What part of her instructions were unclear?”

Midwingman Lucas folded her arms, regarding them both with the full dignity of her sixteen years. “Well? I’m waiting to hear.”

Lizzy probably could have told on him then and gotten him in heaps of trouble, but instead she wiped her bloody nose on her sleeve and said, “The top of the bag wasn’t shut.”

“Right,” said Freddy. “It was open when we took it out.”

“Oh? And what were you doing then, Ensign Wentworth? Just pulling the flour out of Ensign Bennet’s hair?”

“... yes?”

“And I was doing the same,” replied Lizzy. “There’s a lot of flour in his hair.”

Midwingman Lucas did not believe them, but as they wouldn’t change their story, she couldn’t report them to their commanding officer. “Go to the baths and wash all that off. I want to see you in clean uniforms in an hour.”

“Er... thanks,” said Freddy, awkwardly, as they walked away. “That was decent of you.”

Lizzy sniffed; her nose was still bleeding. “I wouldn’t rat on you, that’d be... that’d be un-corps-like. Just don’t throw flour sacks at me again and I won’t knock you down.”

“Well, don’t keep boasting about how you’ll be a captain and I won’t throw flour sacks at you,” said Freddy. “We don’t all have relatives in the service. I don’t know if they’ll ever let me see a dragon hatching, let alone harness one.”

Lizzy blinked. She clearly hadn’t realized that. Then she said, awkwardly, “Oh. Well. I won’t. Friends?”

Freddy considered this and then held his hand out to her. “Friends.”

 

2) Captain Rankin

 

Freddy did not know precisely why he disliked Captain Rankin, but he did and disliked him thoroughly. He was incredibly disgruntled to find Rankin unwilling to leave the mess, where they were celebrating Benwick’s birthday party. Rankin knew this and deliberately irritated Freddy by offering smuggled champagne to everyone and then suggesting a game of spin the bottle. 

The possibility of having to kiss Rankin was a revolting one; Freddy objected to the game, but was overruled. 

Next to him Lizzy was looking increasingly uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, nudging her. 

“I don’t want to play because Rankin is,” whispered Lizzy. “I don’t... he always calls me Miss Bennet, and he looks at me... I don’t know, it always makes me feel like I’m not a person.”

“He does that to Jane Fairfax, too,” said Freddy, frowning. “Why does he do that? He always calls me Midwingman Wentworth.”

“Because Jane and I are women,” said Lizzy. “He’s done worse to Jane, actually; he tried to proposition her even though she hasn’t a dragon and doesn’t need a daughter.” 

“Dear Miss Bennet,” said Captain Rankin, stepping towards her with a cool smile, “will you not come sit by me? You look almost pretty today with that new hair ribbon. Almost feminine.”

What a stupid thing to say, thought Freddy. Everyone knew that aside from Jane Fairfax, Lizzy Bennet was the prettiest aviatrix in the Corps. Even  _ he  _ was willing to acknowledge it, and he would rather tend to a Longwing with hayfever than consider Lizzy Bennet an object of romantic interest. 

“I, um—”

Freddy grabbed one of the bottles of champagne off the table and pointed it at Captain Rankin. “We need a bottle first. Let’s see who can get one the fastest!”

Rankin won and lifted his empty bottle in the air. “Ha! How does it feel to lose so ignominiously, Lieutenant Wentworth?”

Freddy lied, “I’m going to be sick.”

“Not in the mess,” said Lizzy, quickly, and rushed him out.

When they had walked to Wollstonecraft, and they had scrambled up her flank to lay on her back and stargaze, Lizzy said, “Thanks, Freddy.”

“Does that often happen to you and Jane?”

“Only since I turned fourteen and became pretty,” said Lizzy, jokingly. “When I was a horrid little scrub covered in mud I was fine. But people... assume things, now I’m older.”

“Well,” said Freddy, “I’ll threaten to vomit on anyone who tries anything with you.”

They both felt the rumble of Wollstonecraft’s laugh beneath them.

 

3) Captain Harcourt

 

It was grim at the Dover covert. Everyone on Execidum’s crew had agreed to stick protectively close to Admiral Roland, closer than even Excedium, and Admiral Roland, already in a fractious mood, hadn’t any patience for them. 

“Damme,” she exploded, seeing all the officers crammed into the common room nearest her bed chamber, “can I not get a moment’s peace? Get out the lot of you! If I see you before nine tomorrow morning, it’ll be climbing drills until your hands blister.”

Lizzy and Freddy had elected to go to an inn near the covert, where the landlord sponsored music concerts. Listening to Handel distracted them without soothing their tempers and afterwards, they went to tap room to drink in silence. Over the past few days they had discussed the topic of Will Laurence’s desertion, his damning letter of confession and farewell to Admiral Roland, and the consequences for Admiral Roland’s career to a point where they had no more words for it. Will Laurence was worse than a traitor, he was a blackguard. Lizzy and Freddy were both in perfect agreement that his greatest sin had been writing that letter to Admiral Roland, casting her judgement into question, giving the Admiralty reason to revoke her title (not that Lizzy and Freddy, or indeed any member of the crew acknowledged that she was no longer an Admiral). 

At first Freddy thought that he was just drunk when he heard someone telling other people of the love note Will Laurence had decided would be an appropriate way of explaining why he had flown to France with the cure for the dragon plague, and he was hearing his own thoughts.

But then Lizzy slammed her tankard down on the table and turned to glare at a knot of young men in aviator green. Freddy followed the line of her gaze.

“This is what comes of making women not just division captains but admirals,” said Midwingman Sessions, who servied on the Regal Copper  Aequitas . “Would Will Laurence have defected to France under Admiral Linton?”

“No,” agreed Aequitas’s third lieutenant. “Look, no one can deny the Longwing is the heart of English aviation, but there are  _ limits _ .”

“Women just aren’t equipped to be admirals,” agreed another midwingman, this one unknown to Freddy. “Too emotional.”

“How dare they,” whispered Lizzy, trembling with rage. “How  _ dare  _ they—”

Freddy felt himself growing really angry but he said tightly, “Lizzy, it’s no use getting into a tavern brawl—”

But then Midwingman Sessions spat into the fire and said, “ _ That  _ for Captain Roland, that traitor’s whore.”

“What the hell did you just say about  _ Admiral  _ Roland?” Lizzy snapped, jumping to her feet. 

“That she’s a traitor’s whore,” said Sessions, drawing himself up taller. 

Which was the point where Freddy knew Lizzy was going to flip the goddamn table. 

Though Lizzy couldn’t be beat with a sword, Freddy was not sure she could take half-a-dozen aviators in a fist-fight. So, he thought, as he preemptively flipped the table himself, he was really being very wise and keeping his third lieutenant from getting herself killed. Freddy grabbed Sessions by the throat and, marching him back to the wall, snarled, “I am acting fourth lieutenant on Excedium. Do you want to repeat to  _ my face  _ just what you said about Admiral Roland?”

Sessions couldn’t, because he couldn’t draw breath enough to talk, but one of his compatriots said, “ _ Captain  _ Roland is a whore. Everyone knows it.”

Lizzy whacked that gentleman in the face with her tankard. 

As it turned out, Lizzy could indeed hold her own in a fistfight, so long as Freddy picked up the occasional midwingman and threw him against a wall. Theirs was a hard-won victory, but it was theirs. 

“Excuse me,” said the innkeeper, stalking into the room with a very thick wooden club. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Lizzy spat out a gob of blood on Sessions and said, “This gentleman will be happy to pay for the damage, sir.”

They both walked straightbacked out of the inn and down the street, before Lizzy said, stiffly, “I think I broke a rib.”

“I can see my knuckles,” said Freddy, displaying his left hand to Lizzy. He knew it was going to hurt like blazes once the battle-madness had faded, but right now, he was more annoyed than pained by it. 

“Well done,” said Lizzy, sounding impressed. “Give me your uninjured arm, will you?”

Captain Harcourt saw them limping into camp blood-stained, their uniforms torn, and said, “What on... have you been fighting? When we expect the French to invade  _ any day now _ ?”

“No,” lied Lizzy, unconvincingly.

Captain Harcourt pressed her pale lips together. “I can’t believe this of you, Lieutenant Bennet! Admiral Roland always called you sensible—”

“Midwingman Sessions called Admiral Roland a traitor’s whore,” burst out Lizzy. 

Captain Harcourt sighed and pulled at the end of braid. Freddy recalled that Captain Harcourt was not much older than they were. Then she said, weakly, “I expect you... both tripped. In, in shock from hearing Midwingman Sessions say something like that.”

Freddy exchanged an uneasy look with Lizzy. 

“Because,” said Captain Harcourt, pulling on the end of her red braid, “it is very, ah— very  _ dark  _ and if the two of you happened to... fall down in the dark, then it would be... perfectly understandable and not something that would ever need to be reported—”

“We fell down,” lied Freddy. 

“Right. Be more careful next time.”

“We will,” lied Lizzy. 

 

4) Admiral Roland

 

There were whole hours now, when Freddy did not think of Anne Elliot, so he was really convinced he was over her and no one could tell how miserable he was.

Lizzy, of course, knew something was off— they had been friends too long not to have some understanding of each others’ moods— but she was still too lost in grief over her aunt to pinpoint exactly what it was. When he lied and said an injury from the Battle of Shoeburyness pained him, she nodded and accepted it. He wasn’t sure if she believed it, but he knew she wouldn’t press him.  

Admiral Roland was harder to shake. She had known him as long as Lizzy, but had been his superior during that time. She wouldn’t accept the tacit brush-off and kept pressing until Freddy snapped at her, “For God’s sake,  _ I’m fine. _ ”

Admiral Roland looked at him curiously and then said, gruffly, “Got your heart broken, didn’t you?”

Freddy was astonished at how quickly the grief and bitterness rose to choke him, how impossible it was to speak. But at length, he got out, “No, no, of course I didn’t.”

They both knew it was a lie, a miserable lie. Jane Roland had known him since Frederick had chosen to play by the Dover covert rather than the docks as a child and his parents had put him in the Aerial Corps instead of the Navy; had taught him how to kill men and held his hair back when he’d been sick after he’d proved he learnt her lessons. 

Admiral Roland clapped his shoulder and squeezed it. “Of course not.”

“I’m fine,” Frederick said, woodenly.

“Perfectly,” said Admiral Roland, patting his epaulette. “And because you’re perfectly fine, I’m going to tell you now that I’ve been given permission to form a new division around Wollstonecraft. One shipping out to Portugal with the army. And I mean for Laconia to be part of it.”

“Thank you,” said Freddy, when he was in control of himself once more. 

“It hurts like hell now,” said Admiral Roland, kindly, “but when you’re up in the air again and have something useful to do, you’ll forget all about her.”

“I’m sure,” lied Freddy. 

 

5) Captain Bennet

 

He hadn’t expected to run into Anne Elliot at a dinner party in London, but he had and the experience had shaken him much more than he would have liked. They hadn’t spoken to each other in years and now their situations were reversed. He was was sought-after and wealthy. She was the unmarried, unloved daughter of a bankrupted baronet. His future dazzled in its possibilities; hers was so diminished as to be grim.

And yet— why did it hurt worse than the time he’d been riddled with grapeshot over the Channel?

“Captain Wentworth, have you met Miss Elliot?” asked Lady Stornoway.

“I have,” said Freddy, curtly. 

This surprised Lizzy, who was by him, and she regarded him curiously.

“Captain Wentworth,” said Miss Elliot, uncertainly. She looked... tired. Older. He felt a spurt of bitter satisfaction and hated himself for it. 

“Miss Elliot,” he forced himself to say. 

“Captain Wentworth, I entirely forgot that we promised to tell Lady Hester Stanhope of the Iberian method of dragon harnessing,” Lizzy said. “A pleasure Miss Elliot— and I do beg your pardon.”

He was snappish and irritable the rest of the party and through drills the next morning. Once his crew had slunk off to the baths, thoroughly dejected, Lizzy pulled him aside. “Fancy a drink, Freddy?”

A drink sounded like a wonderful idea. He agreed and went up to her rooms. Lizzy waited until the second glass of port before saying, “Freddy, what on earth was that about? Your crew was going very well." 

"I was a little hard on them," he unwillingly admitted.

"Yes, you've been in a mood since last evening. What did Miss Elliot do to you?” 

Freddy stared into his glass. He considered telling the truth. He considered lying. Both had their appeal.

“How do you know Miss Elliot?” Lizzy tried. 

“We met during the invasion,” said Freddy. 

“And she... what, was a spy for the French? Refused to give quarter to the aviators or Excedium?

“No,” said Freddy. 

“Freddy, we’ve known each other since we were runners,” said Lizzy, exasperated. “You can tell me about things that upset you instead of holding them in forever until they fester.”

“You’re one to talk,” said Freddy, nettled.

“Don’t snap at  _ me _ because  _ Miss Elliot  _ upset you.”

“I find it hard,” said Freddy, temper flaring, “to have you demand I divulge my secrets when you’ve been lying about your affair with Colonel Fitzwilliam for months.”

It was a low blow; he saw Captain Bennet recoil, looking very pale and very tense.

Freddy regretted it immediately.  “That was uncalled for. I’m sorry, Lizzy. It was wrong of me to say anything. It was a thoroughly unkind thing to do.”

Lizzy got up abruptly from the table and went to the window. She leaned her hip against the sill and crossed her arms, staring down at the courtyard. At length she said, “How long have you known?”

“Since we escaped Ronda,” said Freddy and rubbed his forehead. “Look, no one else knows except Lieutenant Lucas. No one else has picked up on it. And I only did because I saw the two of you pretending to be husband and wife.” 

Outside there came the faint noises of redcoats at their drills; Freddy wondered if Colonel Fitzwilliam was below, giving the orders. Freddy liked Colonel Fitzwilliam— he was a gentleman-like man, brave, well-informed, and diplomatic, as well as one of the best strategists Freddy had ever met— and it hadn’t surprised Freddy at all that Lizzy had taken up with him. Colonel Fitzwilliam was discreet and not bad looking, as far as one man could be qualified to judge another, and had treated Lizzy as an equal from the first. And even after Freddy had been sure Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lizzy were sleeping together, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s public manner to Lizzy hadn’t changed. He still treated her with joking camaraderie, listened to her suggestions; indeed, showed the utmost respect to Lizzy in every particular. 

“It was... stupid of me,” said Lizzy softly. “But I... God, Freddy. It hasn’t changed anything for you or Charlotte or anyone else in the division. If word got out everyone would assume it would, that Colonel Fitzwilliam was the only one making decisions about the division, that I was... weak or a whore or....”

“You’re not,” said Freddy, now angry for other reasons. “No one would say anything about that to a male division captain.”

“Well, I’m not a male division captain,” said Lizzy, dryly. “I just... I was in love with Fitz for months before Ronda.”

Freddy had wondered, but forebore to comment on this. 

“And then we thought we were going to die, and then....” She put her hands on the window sill and slumped, head bowed. “God, I’m a fool, aren’t I? There’s no one else in world I want but  _ him _ , and the longer we are in London, and the more Mrs. Darcy tries to matchmake, the more I know there isn’t any way the right honorable Colonel Fitzwilliam, grandson of two Earls, could ever publicly take up with an aviator. I know it’s impossible, that I’m risking far too much for something that can’t—” She cut herself off abruptly. Lizzy drew in a shaking breath and exhaled slowly before saying, in a light and breezy tone, “But enough of my foolishness. The way things are shaking out the only one silly enough to be hurt by the inevitable conclusion of my affair with Colonel Fitzwilliam is me. You needn’t worry too much.”

“I was in love with Miss Elliot,” Freddy said abruptly. “I offered for her and she accepted. Her father and godmother disapproved of her marrying an aviator and persuaded her to break off the engagement.”

“I’m sorry, Freddy,” said Lizzy, softly. “I think I may be one of the few people who understands your situation exactly.”

Freddy rose and put a comforting hand on her epauletted shoulder, as Admiral Roland had done for him. "It's hell now, I know."

With a flicker of a smile, Lizzy asked, “You got over it, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Freddy lied. 


End file.
